


Hurricane Feezal

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-13
Updated: 2006-03-12
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:59:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8088166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: In 2.14 "Stigma," Feezal Phlox was very interested in Trip Tucker. What if Trip wasn't the only male on Enterprise she was attracted to? (02/09/2003)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Betas: P.J. Sutherland, Ronda Sexton, Val, Jessica, and Nancy  


* * *

Malcolm calculated the trajectory, total mass, speed of impact, and deftly speared his cherry tomato with his fork. Pausing before he brought it to his mouth, he turned to Trip. "Then during Mrs. Phlox's tour of the Armoury, she suddenly stopped beside me and sniffed. Not a casual sniff mind you, but like she was trying to memorize my scent. Bloody hell, I was glad I'd put on my deodorant this morning. Any idea what that was all about, Trip?"

Malcolm noted that Trip had suddenly stopped chewing his pot roast and was giving him a funny look.

"Trip? Are you choking? Do you need some water?" The Brit pushed his water glass nearer to the engineer.

Trip grabbed the tumbler and emptied it in one gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and before he replied. "She did what?"

Chewing on the tomato while he sawed away at his pork chop, the armory officer nodded then swallowed. "She sniffed me. I didn't know what to make of it."

"Oh, God! Not you too?" Trip groaned.

"Beg your pardon?"

"You weren't there when Feezal...er...Mrs. Phlox arrived on board were you, Malcolm?"

"Nope, I was busy on the bridge. Why?"

"Then you didn't see her and the doctor when they first met. I tell you if one of them had turned around and then sniffed, it would have reminded me of that old dog my grandfather used to own. Sniffed all the female dogs in the neighborhood, just before he..."

"I think I get the picture, Trip."

"I'm not sure you do. It was very strange. Both comical and erotic. Very bizarre combination. I didn't know whether to laugh or to take a cold shower."

Malcolm placed his fork and knife back on his plate and rested his chin against his cupped hands. "So let me get this straight, you're saying she was trying to come on to me?" Fortunately the dining room was all but vacant, so no one heard their conversation.

"Yep. Ya should'a seen her in Sickbay. She didn't actually sniff me, but she got _real_ close—and sometimes even when the Doc was in the room!"

With a grin and a shake of his head, Malcolm picked up his fork and continued with his meal. "Well, Denobulans do have more than one spouse. So they probably aren't as self-conscious with their displays of affection." He laughed lightly. "She is rather cute, in a Denobulan sort of way."

The table suddenly vibrated as a tray of food slammed onto the surface. The motion caused the bowl of soup on the tray to slosh, dribbling its tomato base down the side of the bowl.

"You call that just a 'display of affection'?" Hoshi asked the Brit. "Looked to me like she was trying to inhale you!"

"Ah, Hoshi. Um...I didn't realize you were in the Armory at the time," Malcolm remarked, clearly self-conscious. Like the gentleman he was, he rose from the table waiting for Hoshi to take her seat.

Turning away from the Brit, Hoshi focused all her attention on the Southerner, as she lowered herself onto the chair. "How quick they forget, Commander," Hoshi remarked sweetly as if indulging an errant child.

Trip smiled, but didn't appear to comprehend Hoshi's insinuation.

"Ensign?" Malcolm prompted now seated again. The engineer wasn't the only one who didn't understand her reference.

Hoshi turned back toward the lieutenant. "What day is it?" she asked slowly, her head tilted to her right slightly, and she gave Reed a small smile.

"Um...Tuesday."

The Communications Officer unwrapped the napkin from around her eating utensils, and selected a soup spoon. She stirred her steaming bowl of tomato vegetable soup slowly and deliberately, not taking her eyes off the liquid.

"Is there anything specific that happens every Tuesday?" Her eyes lifted and focused again on the lieutenant.

"Well I always clean the torpedo tubes, and then I run the diagnostics on the...oh. Oh no. Bloody hell, I completely forgot!"

"We've only been doing _it_ every Tuesday and Thursday at noon for the last nine months. I thought you enjoyed our time together!"

"Ah, listen, you two," Trip interjected. "This is way too much infor..."

Hoshi ignored the engineer. "I know you wish we had more time together, so lately I've been trying to come earlier."

A blushing Trip moved to rise from the table. With one hand, while still looking at Malcolm, Hoshi gripped the embarrassed man's forearm and pulled Trip back down into his seat. Apparently she either demanded a witness or an audience.

Malcolm buried his head in his hands and groaned. "I'm so sorry, Hoshi, I forgot all about it. You see the Captain asked...and then I....and she..."

"I thought you enjoyed our noon-times together?" Hoshi continued. "You told me you looked forward to it? You weren't just leading me on were you?"

Trip tried to rise again, but Hoshi's grip remained firm.

Malcolm lowered his hands and looked at the irate ensign. "Look can we reschedule target practice for some other time? How about after tonight's evening meal? And we can make it two hours, not just one."

"Target practice?" Trip asked the pair. "This is about target practice?"

Malcolm turned toward his friend. "What did you think it was about?" he asked innocently.

"You don't want to know." Trip shook his head, and removed Hoshi's hand from his sleeve. "Look, you two, I have to get back down to Sickbay. Feezal's...er...Mrs. Phlox is expecting me."

"You better hope that's not all she's expecting, Trip," Malcolm joked.

With a smile and a shake of the head, Trip left the pair behind.

"Just 'target practice,' Malcolm?" Hoshi cooed.

"Well, it sounds much better than 'doing the dirty deed' doesn't it?" the Brit remarked.

The linguist chuckled.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the afternoon passed rather smoothly for the ship's armory officer. He recalibrated the tactical sensors and performed some overdue crew evaluations, all the while looking forward to an evening meal with Hoshi followed by a double dose of 'target practicing.'

Carrying his ever-present DataPADD with him, Malcolm queued up in the mess hall. Tucking the PADD under one arm, he picked up his tray. He stepped away from the food bar, and seeing Hoshi seated off to the side, he walked over and sat down across the table from her.

"I've arranged for us to do target practicing in the secondary cargo bay. It's currently about three-quarters empty," Malcolm said as he dug into his pasta.

"Isn't that the cargo bay that has all the foam blast protection screens in it?" Hoshi inquired as she spread her napkin on her lap.

"You know, I do believe you are right?" Malcolm remarked casually.

"If I recall correctly, they are approximately the size of couple of the ship's bunks?"

The Brit smiled knowingly. "I'd say more like three, perhaps four."

"More like three or four what?"

Hoshi and Malcolm looked up to see that Feezal Phlox had joined them, taking a seat beside Hoshi. Her dinner plate was laden with several different foods, ranging from the pasta of the day to breadsticks, pickles, and pastry.

Malcolm coughed.

"Three or four...ah...work shifts," Hoshi supplied with a nod. "We were talking about the ship's schedule."

"I see," Feezal picked up a large dill pickle and brought it to her lips. Lazily she licked it and proceeded to move it in and out of her mouth.

"You see," Malcolm began. He cleared his throat, apparently uncomfortable with the Denoblan's presence and actions. "We were debating whether it's more efficient to schedule three work shifts a day or..."

His voice caught when he felt a decidedly feminine foot rub along the inside of his lower leg. He cleared his throat, noticed Hoshi smile, and reassured he began again.

"You see we thought maybe a four-shift day would allow for more..."

The foot continued its exploration, this time rising above Malcolm's knee and up the Brit's inside thigh.

"...allow for more er...flexibility," he croaked.

"I'm sure you are _very_ flexible," Feezal remarked, her voice dripped with desire and innuendo. Abruptly she bit into the pickle and with a wide Denobulan smile on her face she chewed and swallowed.

"Um...well...

"I hope your captain realizes just how dedicated you are to the ship's efficiency. I mean, talking business when you are supposed to be relaxing? You really should take the time to enjoy yourself."

Feezal picked up the flaky pastry and breaking it in half revealed the jelly and creme interior. "Life's too short to always be working," she continued and taking her finger scooped out a dollop of sweet white creme. "My husbands were the same way before I got to know them. All work, all talk, no time to enjoy the finer things in life." Flicking her long tongue out, she ever so slowly licked the creme from her finger. Swallowing the confection, she smiled that unnatural Denobulan wide grin before she continued. "Of course it wasn't long before we met before I was able to show them how relaxing, as well as invigorating, a passionate relationship could be."

Malcolm sat dumbfounded by Feezal's words and actions. He was at a loss as to what to say to the woman, and he prayed the other members of the crew in the mess hall, hadn't overheard her conversation.

"Do you understand what I'm trying to say, Mr. Reed?" Feezal placed her hand over Malcolm's.

Reacting as if he had been scalded, the Armory Officer quickly jerked his hand away. Feezal smiled slightly and leaned back against her chair.

"Um, Malcolm, we _do_ have that target practice to get to," Hoshi remarked. She rose to her feet and picked up her food tray. "Maybe we should take our meals with us. We wouldn't want to be late."

"Good idea, Hoshi!" Malcolm was thankful for her intervention. "Ah, look here comes Travis!" Reed waved to the pilot beckoning him to come over.

Travis Mayweather nodded, acknowledging his friend's request, and walked towards the table with his own meal.

"What can I do for you, Malcolm?" he asked.

"Have you met Mrs. Phlox yet?" he asked, he motioned towards the grinning Denobulan.

"I met her when she visited the bridge," he said. "It's good to see you again, Mrs. Phlox." Travis placed his tray down upon the table and shook hands with the woman.

"Please call me Feezal."

Travis grinned broadly. "Of course."

"I'm sure you won't mind keeping Feezal company, while Hoshi and I attend to some business, would you, Engsign?" he asked, knowing the pilot wouldn't refuse an indirect command from a superior officer.

"Oh, not at all, Lieutenant. I'll be glad to keep her company!"

Without any further hesitation, Malcolm and Hoshi left the mess hall.

* * *

"And you are sure the door's locked?" Hoshi asked for the fourth time.

"Locked tighter than a drum, my dear," Malcolm reconfirmed. Spent and happily content, he rolled off of her and allowed the linguist to pillow her head against his chest. With his free hand, he pulled a blanket up over their sweat-glistened nude bodies.

"Maybe we should reschedule our _practice time_ permanently," she suggested with a joyful sigh. "It was very fortunate that the emergency beacons and blankets are also stored his this room. I like how you made them flicker. And the wine you brought was exquisite."

Malcolm smiled and hugged her naked body against his own. The flickering light of the beacons was reflected all around the cargo bay. "Took care of it myself this afternoon. I wanted to get hold of some of T'Pol's candles, but she's the only one authorized to use them."

"And the phasers and the targeting dummy?" she asked.

"Damn, you know I think I left those in the Armoury." He didn't sound at all sorry.

"Too bad." Hoshi ran her hand over her lover's chest, seductively, raking her fingers through his chest hair.

"Yeah. Of course with the way you were coming on to me in the mess hall, it's a wonder I didn't do my 'target practicing' in there."

"What do you mean?"

"You know full well, running your foot up and down my leg," he said lazily and he trailed on finger across her cheek and down to her swollen lips. "Really got me going."

She licked the digit when it came in range. "Foot? What foot?"

"Don't feign innocence with me, you vixen!" He tilted her face up towards him and captured her mouth with his own.

They kissed for several leisurely molten moments before Hoshi pulled away laughing. "I mean it, Malcolm. I didn't play footsies with you. You know we are trying to keep this relationship of ours quiet."

"Well,if you didn't, who..." Malcolm stopped and groaned.

"Mrs. Phlox!" they both said together.

* * *

As they rode up in the turbolift to the bridge, Feezal spoke to the pilot. "Thank you so much, Travis."

"Any time, Mrs. Phlox," the helmsman replied.

Stepping forward and encroaching on Mayweather's personal space, the Denobulan ran a finger down the man's chest. "I want to thank you for being so kind to me, Travis. I really enjoyed looking at all the shuttlepods."

Travis grinned and took a half a step back, but Feezal followed, maintaining her contact with her new friend. "I have some artwork I think you might find interesting. It's a scul..."

"Well, actually," Travis said, deliberately cutting the woman off. He hadn't forgotten how she had deliberately squeezed his butt when they had crawled into one of the smaller shuttlepods. "I'm not into art that much, but I think Malcolm might appreciate it." It would serve the Brit right for sticking him with Phlox's wife. "I think he told me one time that he really had a weakness for fine art."

Feezal sighed. "Ah, well thank you for letting me know, I'll have to speak to him about it."

"Good idea, I think he's actually on the bridge..."

At that moment, the door to the turbolift slid open to reveal the ship's center of activity.

"Yep, he's at his station," Travis pointed over the woman's shoulder and toward the Tactical Station where Malcolm, head bowed over the controls, didn't see their entrance.

Feezal moved forward and noted that not only was Malcolm on the bridge but so was that woman who had been in the mess hall yesterday. Hearing a whooshing sound behind her, she turned and saw that Travis hadn't followed her onto the bridge, but instead had stepped back into the lift.


	3. Chapter 3

Hearing the turbolift close, Malcolm lifted his head. Noticing Feezal, he quickly resumed his task, hoping by looking busy she wouldn't bother him.

But nothing short of a grappling hook, would stop the woman.

Sauntering across the bridge, Feezal made a beeline towards the lieutenant.

Malcolm tried to pay attention to the computer readout, but he couldn't ignore the sound of her approaching footsteps. He kept to his task, trying to ignore her presence, but when he heard her inhale deeply and then sigh ever so huskily, he couldn't help but look up.

"Ah, Mrs. Phlox," Malcolm said. Looking past the Denobulan, he caught Hoshi's eye and noticed her glare. "Is there something I can do for you? Are you looking for the Captain?" _Please tell me you are looking for the Captain!_

"So this is the life force of the ship? The very nucleus that holds everything together?" Feezal turned slowly around looking at the viewscreen, the seemingly tense communications officer, the empty Captain's chair, before once again pivoting back to look at the Armory Officer.

"It's the bridge, Mrs. Phlox. I was told you'd already been up here when you were taken on the tour of the ship. I assure you nothing's changed since then. Now if you'll exc..."

"Actually, my dear man, something has changed. And changed most dramatically."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's you, Mr. Reed. Don't you see? You weren't on the bridge when I visited before. It makes all the difference, all the difference in the universe!"

Malcolm snorted and bent his head to his task again.

Not to be deterred, Feezal reached across the tactical station, which separated her from her goal, and ran a finger along the Brit's temple and down to the top of his ear.

"I've found that I miss hearing your voice. It's so different that the rest of the crew."

Malcolm reached up and grabbed the woman's questing hand.

"I'm afraid this just isn't appropriate behavior for the bridge, ma'am."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Feezal purred seductively. "I was just telling Travis, that back on my ship, I have some exquisite artwork I'm sure you'd like to see. He told me you are very fond of art."

"Well, I never..."

"You see, one of my other husband's wives is an accomplished sculptor. One summer, I posed for her in the nude." Feezal demonstrated the pose by placing one hand on the back of her upturned head, thrusting her breasts out, and resting the other hand against her outer thigh. Maintaining her position, she winked at the Brit. "Her attention to detail is just amazing, let me assure you."

Malcolm groaned and buried his face in his hands. Attacking phaser-blasting aliens he could handle, but he had had apparently met his match when it came to Feezal Phlox.

"Mrs. Phlox?"

Feezal dropped the pose and turned upon hearing the sound of her name toward the source of the interruption.

Hoshi smiled sweetly. "I believe they are waiting for you in Sickbay, Ma'am."

"Oh? Oh, yes. That nice Trip Tucker will be looking for me," she said, glancing back at the now relieved Brit. "But don't think I've forgotten about you, Lieutenant."

Feezal backed away towards the turbolift waving at Malcolm.

"I'm sure we'll meet again, Mr. Reed, before I have to leave the ship, until then!"

After Feezal entered the turbolift and the doors slid shut, Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed against his workstation. After taking a couple of moments, he lifted his head and looked over to see that Hoshi was now approaching him.

"That call couldn't have come at a better time," he said with a half-smile.

"What call?" she asked innocently. "I said I believed they were waiting for her. I didn't say that anyone had called the bridge wondering why she wasn't in sickbay."

"You got to love a linguist," Malcolm remarked, his grin widened.

"Yes," Hoshi said taking over where Feezal had left off, running her hands through Malcolm's hair. "You do."

* * *

"Just a few more hours, Malcolm," Trip said as he pumped away on exercycle. "It won't be long before Feezal Phlox will leave Enterprise.

"Can't come none to soon," Malcolm remarked. He was seated the exercycle next to the engineer.

"You know I half expect her to walk in here any moment. I swear nothing will stop that woman from her goal," Trip said to his friend.

Malcolm smiled. "Unless she has my personal security codes, she's not getting through that door."

Trip grinned. "I always knew it would come in handy to know you, Malcolm. Tactical officers do have their uses."

They continued to pedal the bikes for several more moments, before Trip spoke again. "So how did the target practice go?"

"Fine. Just fine. Hoshi's really coming along."

"Ah, huh."

"Excuse me?"

"Let's just say, the next time you 'n Hoshi go target practicing, you need to remember to discard all the evidence. You left behind a couple of emergency beacons and a wine glass in the secondary cargo bay."

"Oh."

"If you two don't watch it, the whole ship will find out about what target you're practicing on."

"Duly noted, sir."

"Oh c'mon, Malcolm. I'm all for it. In fact I think you two probably do very well 'target practicing.'

"And who else knows?"

Trip shrugged. "Maybe Porthos. He was with me at the time, and did a lot of sniffing around that cargo bay."

"Trip?"

"Yeah, Malcolm?"

"No more talk about sniffing, okay?"

* * *

A few hours later, the senior staff stood at attention along one side of the corridor that led to the shuttlepod launch bay. Beginning with Travis, by order of rank, the crew waited while Feezal, accompanied by her husband, walked down the corridor.

Feezal paid her respects to Travis, who immediately left the line and headed for the shuttlepod as soon as she moved on to the next person in line.

Stepping up to Hoshi, Feezal extended a hand to the young woman. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Hoshi. I hope we can meet again someday."

Being polite, Hoshi nodded and shook her hand. "I was very glad to meet you," Hoshi said. "I'm sure we'll meet again."

Moving forward, Feezel held out her hand to Malcolm. Politely the Brit grasped it lightly with his own. "Dear Mr. Reed, we must get together in the future. There are so many things we need to talk about, and so many things I have to show you."

Malcolm blushed.

"You never did get to see my art collection, did you?"

Hoshi leaned to her right, nearer Malcolm and Feezal, and spoke softly to the woman using the Denobulan language. Then ended the conversation with a kind smile and her eyes zeroed in on the other woman's.

Feezal smiled nervously, and stepped away from Malcolm and spoke with Commander Tucker.

"What did you say to her?" Malcolm whispered.

"I told her that you were mine, and that unlike Denobulans, I didn't believe in sharing. Feezel then reminded me that you and I aren't wed."

Malcolm bobbed his head.

"I informed her that we weren't wed—yet. But that I had plans, and they didn't include anyone else being part of the union."

"Plans?" Malcolm asked.

"I'll tell you all about them during our next target practice session."


End file.
